Josephine Cox - Lonely Girl

Rosie shrugged. ‘Maybe … but that’s probably because we all do what Harry does, and try to keep out of her way.’

Sitting on the edge of the bed, John momentarily lapsed into silence. Then, cautiously, he asked, ‘Can I tell you something, Rosie?’

She thought he had something weighing on his mind. ‘Of course.’

‘It’s just that I have good reason to believe that she was never really meant to be a mother.’

‘How do you mean, Daddy?’ He had Rosie’s full attention. ‘All I know is, she never wanted me. She’s always telling me that.’

‘Yes, and I’m sorry she has ever said such a terrible thing, but it only strengthens my belief that some women are truly not meant to have children. But to be honest, Rosie, I really don’t think she means half of what she says.’

Rosie looked him in the eye. ‘Well, I know she does, otherwise why would she say it?’

‘I don’t think it’s altogether her fault.’

‘Whose fault is it, then?’

John took a deep breath. ‘Some time back, I read an article in a medical magazine in the dentist’s surgery, when I had to have that back tooth out.’

Rosie was curious. ‘What kind of article? And what’s it got to do with Mother’s spiteful ways?’

John went on quietly, ‘It explained how some women, through no fault of their own, can never see themselves as mothers. They do not have a natural instinct with children, and they are unable to cope with the responsibility of raising them.’

‘I don’t understand.’

John admitted that he did not really understand either. ‘From what I can recall, it seems that some women – from every walk of life, and for many different reasons – are born without any maternal instinct whatsoever, and they don’t, and never will, possess the urge to bear a child or to love and take care of one.’

‘But that’s not natural … is it?’ Rosie was nonplussed, though she knew her own mother found it hard to love her, and there had been many occasions when she would rather hurt her than care for her.

‘If that article really is true, then there must be other women like Mother.’ Suddenly afraid her mother might appear at the door, Rosie lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Sometimes, even when I haven’t done anything wrong, she screams at me and says hurtful things to make me cry. And she never, ever cuddles me. One time, I threatened to run away but she just laughed in my face and offered to pack a bag for me.’

‘You mean you actually meant to run away?’ John asked. ‘Why didn’t you come to me? Maybe by offering to pack your bag, your mother was trying you, thinking that if she pretended to go along with your threat you might give up the idea.’

‘No, Daddy. You weren’t there. She really wanted me to leave.’ Rosie was adamant. ‘She chased me upstairs and started packing my clothes into a bag, and she was angry … saying bad things. She told me that when she was just fifteen she was made to fend for herself and that it never did her any harm. She said it was time I learned to take care of myself, because I would be fifteen soon and old enough to fly the nest.’

‘I see.’ John was angry that his wife had spoken to Rosie in such a way. ‘She never mentioned it to me,’ he remarked quietly, ‘and she was wrong to say such a thing. I know she left home early herself – and from what your Auntie Kathleen has told me, it seems your mother was a difficult child – but after leaving home she did largely what she wanted, and never looked back. She had various factory jobs and bar work and always had just enough money to keep her in style. Yes, she’s always had tremendous style.’

Rosie was impressed despite herself. ‘I don’t know if I could do that. I don’t think, even though I said I’d go, that I’m really ready to be sent packing, and besides, I would miss you too much … and the farm … and I expect I would even miss Mother.’

‘I’m sure you would,’ John smiled. ‘Yes, she’s a difficult woman, but we’re all made different, and we have to live with what we’ve got. And you are nothing like your mother. You’re strong, too, but in a different, calmer way.’

He was keen to reassure her. ‘You’ve no need to worry about what your mother said to you because I promise you, hand on heart, you will never be “sent packing”. This is your home for as long as you need it. It will be for you to decide when the time does eventually come for you want to fly the nest.’

‘Don’t you think I’m brave enough to go out in the big wide world?’

‘I’m not saying that, sweetheart.’ John found it difficult to choose the right words. ‘You are so different from your mother. You’re a strong, deep-thinking girl, with a heart full of love and compassion. So many times I’ve seen how you put other people’s feelings before your own. Look at that time last spring when we had weeks of rain. Everything was flooded, including the big pond in the valley. When one of our new lambs escaped from the barn and slipped down the bank into the pond, you waded in after it without any thought for your own safety.’ He smiled. ‘You gave me one hell of a fright. In the end I had to save the pair of you.’

Rosie had not forgotten. ‘I’m sorry I scared you,’ she said, ‘but the lamb was so frightened.’

‘Ah, but not my Rosie, eh? Though running into the water was a foolhardy thing to do. I’m only thankful that I was there to retrieve you.’

He lowered his voice and spoke in a gentler tone. ‘You do see what I’m trying to get at, don’t you, Rosie? I could never imagine your mother going in after that lamb, but that does not make her a coward. It makes her cautious and protective of herself. But you care deeply about everything and everyone … even your mother. You’re quieter and more thoughtful than she is. You’re just altogether different. While she sees this farm and the land as a kind of prison, you’ve always loved it … much like I do. As you know, this farm was handed down to me from my father.’ He smiled warmly. ‘It gives me such joy to know that you share my passion for this place.’

He had long been saddened by his wife’s dislike of the farm and the surrounding countryside. ‘Your mother has never really settled here. She’s forever saying she wants us to move, bag and baggage, into the town centre, though she knows I could never agree to it. Maybe that makes me selfish – I don’t know. But you see what I’m saying, don’t you? The two of you are unalike in so many ways.’

Rosie spoke her mind. ‘I don’t want to be like Mother.’

John understood, although what lay behind her comment saddened him. ‘Do you know what would make me happy, Rosie? I would feel so much better if you could just try not to be too hard on your mother. She can’t help the way she is. I know she’s got many failings but don’t we all have failings of some sort or another? None of us is perfect, Rosie. Let’s take a look at the good things she’s done, shall we? First of all, she allowed me the greatest gift I could ever have … and that is you, Rosie. She raised you, and here you are, a lovely, kind and gentle girl on the edge of womanhood. You’ve turned out to be a fine human being, so somewhere along the way your mother must have done something right. I’ll admit you have good reason at times to think she doesn’t love you, but I’m sure she does … in her own peculiar way.’

Hoping he was getting through to Rosie, he went on, ‘Having said that, I have to agree that just lately she’s been on a really short fuse, but over the sixteen years since I married her I have seen glimpses of tenderness in her. Not often, I’ll admit, but somewhere under her hard shell there must be a softness in her character.’